


Play Telephone

by Zrofyre



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Single Dad Ben Solo, That's not how 911 works, What the Hell, and being little shits, chapter count to increase, cute kids being cute, dispatcher rey, do not call 911 thinking you'll find love, lets try this, took my own fic prompt and decided, you won't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zrofyre/pseuds/Zrofyre
Summary: Based off the prompt ( that I put up I might add ) "Single dad Ben Solo is trying to keep his child safe so he's teaching them all about 911 and how to call and what happens.  Rey is a VERY patient dispatcher."Rey is a dispatcher in rural Jakku county.  Ben Solo is a single dad who just moved to the 'boonies' and his son keeps calling 911.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 32
Kudos: 92





	1. Sir?  Sir!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes - I am medical personnel.  
> No- This is not reality.  
> Yes - HEA eventually  
> No - Do not attempt the things you read here at home. Chances are VERY slim you'll find a cute and warmhearted dispatcher to fall in love with. 
> 
> This is fiction. I have taken GREAT liberties with emergency response and all associated processes. I know this. Don't @ me please.
> 
> The chapter count will be updating as we go. I have a rough feel for this going forward but it's in flux so . . . we'll see where this goes.
> 
> Un-beta'd . . . because I don't have a beta?

“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

Whispers and shuffling scrape across the line, normal ambient noise in her routine shift.

“Jakku County 911, Do you need police, fire, or medical?”

Half formed sounds drift across the line, as if someone has tucked the phone under their chin, “ . . . ad, wanna . . . bed . . . no!”

Keying over to another screen in her terminal, Rey brings up the interface to initiate police response. Admittedly out here in Jakku county the nearest option would be a Sheriff’s deputy when available, but starting the response now would mean less delay in care or even less escalation of the situation.

With the line still open Rey starts trying to coax information out of the disjointed sounds coming through. “This is Rey with Jakku County 911. I’m here to help you. What’s happening tonight?”

A dull thud reverbreates down the line and the speed of Rey’s keystrokes increases marginally. Pulling information over from the automatic name and location information system, she’s a moment away from routing an unresponsive emergency call to the entire active response team when sharp, crisp tones come over the line.

“Oh holy shit, I am so sorry! Clyde Logan Solo, what are you doing with my phone?!” Immediate understanding halts Rey’s actions on the spot.

“Hello, this is Jakku County 911. What is the nature of your emergency?” She hasn’t closed out the information yet. Too many years taking too many calls has ingrained the habit of not undoing her current progress. 

“Oh Fuck! Clyde. What did I tell you about dadda’s phone? The phone is NOT a toy!” The rich baritone was tense and even through the line Rey could feel his frustration. Behind the male’s voice the whimper cry of an upset child echoed loudly. “Oh buddy, I’m sorry. It’s ok. We’ll explain to the nice dispatcher what’s going on and we’ll get back to some cuddle times.”

Checking the timestamp on her almost delivered assist request, Rey could see it was a bit past 10pm. “Sir, can I presume this is a misdial?” 

“Ma’am, I am SO sorry! We were cuddling on the couch and I must have drifted off. Clyde is really resistant to bedtime right now with the move and all and we’ve been talking about what to do in and emergency and he must have -”

“Sir. Sir! Mr. Solo!”

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to ramble and spill it all. I’m just a little worked up. Yes, this was a misdial.” A quivering sort of energy in his tone as if even that was manifesting his anxiety.

Rey had more misdials in a day than true emergency response calls. Jakku county claims a handful of villages within its borders, nothing even big enough to call a town. Small collections of farmers who nestled their homes together, fields radiating out like wheel spokes, and the very small support economy of gas station attendants and minor township nonsense was the summary of her populace. 

Pocket misdials, drunk Earl over in Tuanul’s lone bar wanting to “talk to the sweet little miss running the phone lines”, and children of all ages either deliberately or accidentally requesting emergency services.

Granted, in these wild rural communities, when something went wrong it WENT WRONG. Like the time drunk Earl tipped his tractor over pinning his prize heifer Josie between the angle of the cab and the ground. Which wouldn’t have been so bad but then Earl decided to solve “this here’un” himself. That had ended up requiring an assist not only from her army of services but an actual assist from the Army Reserve. Made the state paper and everything.

“It’s no problem sir. This happens more than you could know. Please just reiterate the differences between emergencies needing 911 and emergencies Daddas can handle.” The statement is automatic, an ingrained reply from the daily habit of fielding these types of calls.

“I HAVE BEEN! But he’s four, so can you give the little guy a break?!” The abrupt about-face carried a harsh edge, crashing against Rey’s already tired nerves. This was a stressful position. She did it out of a need to . . . well . . . she just needed to. What she didn’t need was some rage-y asshole jumping down her throat for doing her job!

“Sir. Please take a moment and remember that my job is to support Emergency Response Services for Jakku County. And sometimes that means telling a tired, frustrated parent something they already know. So, unless you have a need for police, fire, or medical, I will give you a pass for tonight. But if the next time Clyde calls and you speak to me in that tone you’d better believe I’ll have Deputy Finn make a stop by to reinforce my message in person. Have a good evening, Mr. Solo.”

Her tendons strained against the golden skin on the back of her hand. As her mouse hovered over the end call button on her screen, she took a deep breath for herself, counted to 10 in her head and prayed to whatever gods were out there that this parent was doing the same. 

“Alright, alright. Good night.” The poor man sounded so defeated. A weight settled a bit into her chest leaving her lungs feeling tight and achy. Knowing that saying anything further wouldn’t benefit either of them for the evening, Rey decided to let things be for now. Unfortunately, she knew kids. And she knew the Solo household would be calling back.  
_____

Ben Solo hitched the increasingly floppy limbs of his boy closer to his chest. Snuggled up on an almost too small couch with a sweaty four year old who was just to the point of sleep, he actually couldn’t be happier to be in this podunk town. It couldn’t even really be called a town. A village? Whatever it was, the community of Cratertown ( really? They went with cratertown? ) was a quietly welcoming new start for his little family of two. 

Despite the . . . unfortunate incident this evening, Ben was still pleased. Clyde would have lots of room to run and play, a healthier home life, a chance to really explore as he grew older. 

Leaving Phas had been hard. Their relationship, while not flourishing, was supportive. The problem was that Phas had never wanted to be a parent in the first place. She had tried. She’s made all the right moves and leaned into the motions as much as she could. She did whatever Ben asked of her for their family. But she was dying slowly inside. She was disconnected and they ALL knew it. That was the crushing part. Even Clyde knew it. Around the age of two he stopped seeking out Phas unless she was a last option. And Ben had never wanted that for his child. 

So after a simple, honest, forthright sit down he and Phas had agreed to separate. They’d both agreed that Ben would take full non-contested guardianship of Clyde. He always knew in his heart that they’d never see her again. But he still offered her - if she ever felt differently - to help her figure out a relationship with their son. 

“Oh my BenRen, we both know what will really happen here.”

As if his son hadn’t had enough upheaval, they packed up their city lifestyle and the two of them settled into a not-so-rundown farmhouse rented on the property of one Poe Dameron. Ben felt slightly more secure moving out there as Poe was the volunteer Fire and EMS Chief. As he put it “An idiot willing to convince others to be idiots as well.” Ben didn’t fully get it but the sentiment was understood. 

Eyes drifting shut, Ben decided to leave the stewing for the morning. Lord knows he was broody enough as it was ( hey the first step to accepting yourself was KNOWING yourself ). 

Tucking his precious boy closer to his chest; the sweaty mop of wavy, dark hair sticking to the exposed bits of his neck, Ben heard the faintest echoes of the dispatcher's British cant slipping into his dreams.


	2. Hungry Ents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathroom break fails

Chapter 2

The dial tone ground into Rey’s ears yet again. This was the fourth successive call and hang up, back to back to back. The same number each time. She’d almost think it was a stalker, with their heavy breathing heaving into her ears but by now she had this number memorized. 

Using the callback feature Rey decided this miscreant was too precious to get into trouble.

“Hi!” Squeaky excitement bounced across the line. “Hi, Hi!”

“Young man, do you know you’re calling 911?” Rey fought for the will to keep a smile out of her voice, and lost. 

“Yep.”

Well that’s to the point, Rey thought. “Ok, well 911 is for emergencies. Do you have an emergency?”

“Yep.”

Despite the tiny voice lacking any sort of vocal signals of distress, Rey began entering the information she’d pulled up. While loading in the address and few details she had for the Solo household, Rey tried to suss out the issue. Children could respond to situations in many different ways. There could be an actual need for services.

“Mr. Clyde, what is wrong right now?”

“Hey, you know my name! Do you know my all name? My all name is Clyde Logan Solo. Daddas says it means sassy pants trouble but Uncle Arm says it mean outlaw wolverine. I think they being silly. Can you-”

“Mr. Clyde Logan Solo, is your daddy available?” Rey hated to interrupt the vocal little man, this was the first real conversation he’d had with her in about 3 days of calls, but she couldn’t tie up the lines no matter how cute the topic. While no calls were coming in currently, she couldn’t play all the time.

“Yeah, daddas!” The thumping sound of feet were followed by the slam of a door. “Daddas!”

Next came another door crack, “Daddas? Not here.”

“Mr. Clyde, is your daddy home?” A bit of worry sank into Rey’s stomach. Despite the barely noticeable nuisance of multiple daily false calls, she would hate to have been slow to respond if a true situation were taking place.

Although, from her many conversations with Mr. Solo, Rey felt he was a dedicated guardian. Tad frazzled at the upheaval, struggling with the adjustment to single parenthood and moving, frustrated some with a bored and lonely four year old, but all together trying. And that was the most important takeaway. That Mr. Solo was trying. 

“Yep.”

Ok, back to the one word responses. “Ok, are you lost? Do you need help?”

“Nope.”

Gah.

“Daddas! Daddas, Miss Rey on the phone! We talking ‘bout my name and -”

“Clyde Logan Solo! Buddy, I’m in the potty, can you wait just a . . . Did you call 911 again?” Even across the phone Rey could hear the exasperation and defeat in the poor man’s voice. “Come here, give daddas the phone.”

“Ok, huggy?” Clyde’s tremulous voice made Rey smile. She knew what the sneak was up to.

“Yes, huggy.” The scratching sound of fabric against a mouthpiece then, “But you’re still in trouble mister, huggy or no.”

“Daddas! No trouble! NO TROUBLE!” The once cute, cuddly little voice became a piercing shriek, ringing a tinny squeal into her own headset.

“Ok, hi Miss Rey. I’m so sorry about this. I just needed to step to the restroom. I SWEAR the phone was put up-”

A screeching wail crescendoed behind his rapidfire words “AAAAHHHHH NO TROUBLE!” The drumming sound that accompanied the statement was surely little heels merrily kicking away at the floor.

“Mr. Solo, it’s ok. I figured that the fastest way to stop him calling on repeat was to get him to go to you. I’ll admit I was worried for a second when he couldn’t seem to find you but it all resolved itself.”

“Oh, I was trying to put some stuff into the storage in the attic and used the upstairs . . . you don’t need to know all this. Sorry. The house we’re in is about 3 times the size of our little unit in the city and Clyde still isn’t oriented all the way.” A bit of embarrassment as if it wasn’t a natural thing.  
“Mr. Solo, it’s ok. We’ll both just get back to our days. I’ll let you handle your poor boy, sounds like he needs a cuddle. Have a good day!”

“We BOTH need a cuddle honestly. If only . . . Have a good day Miss Rey.”

After ending the call and removing her prepared assistance request, she couldn’t help replaying Mr. Solo’s voice in her head. Shifting through a shiver Rey focused back in on her channels and tried to ignore the ideas of cuddles and deep tones.

_____

Hauling his screeching son up into his arms, Ben heaved a deep sigh. He’d put naptime off a little too long. The hope of tidying up a little bit and being able to rest in something other than a disaster zone had appealed on so many levels. So many.

Bad idea. Next time, naptime first no matter the mess.

“Oh no! OH NO! The giant tree has come to life! I NEED A SMALL SNACK!” Booming his voice out over Clyde’s quieting wails Ben continued in a mock deeper tone, “A small child sounds like the perfect dessert. Wherever will I find a loud wailing 991 calling boy?!”

“AHHHH, daddas NO!” The whimpers had stopped but the lower lip was still on significant display. “I’m not snack! I’m Clyde!”

Still in that lower register, “This tree is HUNGRY! And I have the perfect boy right . . . here! First I have to shake all the dirt off him. I like my snacks fresh!” 

With a controlled roll Ben lifted Clyde’s slight weight up over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The pouty face transformed into one of stifled giggles and beaming grin. As his shaggy waves hung into his eyes Clyde called out “Daddas! I’m not a SNACK! I’m a BOY!”

“Ah, but I am an Ent and little boys sound delicious to me! Oh, but I’d better not . . . DROP HIM!”

“AHHHHH DADDAS!”

As his son’s happy screams rang in his ears, Ben held him by the ankles upside down behind his own back and started slow galloping through the hallways. 

“HUNGRY Ent’s need food and sleep!”

Maybe a few extra smiles would make the day better.


	3. We've All Had Those Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has a hellacious day. Then he gets to meet Ms. Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm so sorry this update took forever. Life has been a tumultuous B and a crud ton of other things have been kicking me down.
> 
> It's a short meet but I hope it carries a bit of their fascination with each other.
> 
> While Clyde is not the focus of the story, he is an integral portion of Ben's. There will be LOTS of interaction and story there because it's a core portion of who Ben is.
> 
> Still un-beta'd because reasons.

Chapter 3

The day had been a moderate fail from the very beginning. Ben had tried to run some laundry only to realize he was out of soap. Not a problem except that the nearest city was a 30 minute drive. And Clyde had no clean underwear. Still not a big problem because honestly the boy stripped down any chance he could anyway. 

Then Ben dropped a plate.

And a bowl.

When he finished cleaning up broken shards for the second time he resolved to move to plastic EVERYTHING.

A lunchtime meltdown had put both Solo boys in crabby moods. First it was the wrong drink. Then he didn’t rinse the cup out ENOUGH before pouring in the juice. Then we needed milk to go with our pb&j. Too bad Ben had JUST DUMPED MILK OUT DURING THE FIRST ROUND. So out comes a second cup, with milk.

“Ok buddy, we have milk and grape juice and our sammiches, apples and carrots and ranch. Think that’ll cover lunch?” A kind of sad eagerness colored his words but Ben knew he needed a nap as badly as Clyde did.

“Maybe after nap we’ll run to town and grab some laundry soap and a special treat just you and me?”

“Yeah, yeah yeah! Can we get a shake?” Clyde’s favorite was strawberry shakes wherever he could scam them.

“Sure, we’ll get shakes if we can make it to town and have good behavior.”

Ben liked to fool himself.

One failure of a nap later, with an overly tired four year old, Ben was trying to get them both out of the car in the Walmart parking lot. Ben was not a delicate man. Tall, broad, galumphing would be his self-description. Clyde, while still his little man, was a gangly boy. Being tall for his age he was all pointy joints and expanses of skin and bone. To look at him you’d be concerned but the child could put away two cheeseburgers AND fries, thank you very much.

Wrestling Clyde out of the car, Ben turned back to check that he had everything, “Clyde Logan, stand right by that tire . . . phone, wallet, glasses, keys, just fucking handle this please.” 

Turning around Ben was closing the door behind him as he looked for “Clyde?! Clyde Logan!”  
Two steps to the end of the SUV and the fastest panning glance, one and a half to round the corner to the passenger side, “CLYDE LOGAN SOLO!”

The softest of giggles came from the front bumper and Ben’s heart twisted with pain. The rapid rise of his extreme panic, the plummet of his stomach when he couldn’t see his boy, the debilitating wave of relief were all overshadowed by his extreme frustration. “Clyde, this is NOT a game. We do not hide in the parking lot. COME HERE NOW.” 

Ben could feel the deepening of his voice. Could feel the rumble of anger. In his head he knew it wasn’t right. It’s a four year old boy. He’s just trying to play . . . but the things that could have happened.

“CLYDE.”

Head and shoulders slumped, messy dark hair hanging loose around his ears and forehead, a sad and angry little man stomped around the bumper. Not a word was said as Ben grabbed his hand and tried to tuck him close to his hip. Of course this started a tug of war. Little man had no desire to stand close when he was so upset. And Ben couldn’t give in because this was a busy parking lot.

“Buddy,” Ben tried to explain, tried to teach, even though he knew his son wouldn’t hear hiim, “buddy, listen. I’m sorry I yelled but this is a parking lot, and it’s busy. You CANNOT move away from where I ask you to stay. There are cars all over the place and other adults that I don’t know. I love you so my little duders.”

“DaaAAAaaad.”

“I do. Now lets get some laundry soap and some shakes.” 

The trip to the store was a continuing disaster. Clyde kept running off, Ben kept having to stop to talk to him. All they needed was laundry soap but couldn’t make it to the cleaning aisles of the store. 

Steaming mad by the time they made it to the checkout Ben was trying to practice calming breaths and reminding himself that Clyde hadn’t been out to play hard in awhile. Being a coooped up child was not helping his behaviors. They needed to go play. And skipped nap didn’t help.

“Can we go get our shakes?” The sweet little voice sank Ben’s gut. On the one hand he shouldn’t let him have a treat since he didn’t practice his good behavior. But on the other it would be a bigger meltdown if Ben said no. And all the reasons Ben had already told himself still applied - young, hyper, cooped up, no nap. But proper discipline . . . but circumstances outside of Clyde’s control.  
“Duders, I just don’t know. We didn’t have good behavior here in the store. From the time we left the car we’ve struggled to mind our manners.”

“NoooOOOOOO! I WANT my SHAKE!” The ear piercing shriek did not help Ben’s situation.

“DAD! You said we’d get SHAKES!”

“DAD! DAD DAD DAD DAD DAD!”

Hanging his head, scrubbing his hands across his face and into his har, he covered his face for a second to try and breath. 

“FINE. Fine. We’ll grab a shake from the BK on the way out.”

Beating himself up for giving in, Ben just wanted to get home. 

_____

Pizza sauce and cheese lay across the kitchen floor as if a determined toddler had gone on a spree. It wasn’t a toddler though. It was a tired dad that fumbled the pizza out of the oven and decided to discus it across the tile. 

He was so frustrated and done, done, done with this day. Clyde had tried scaling his dresser to get to a piggy bank on the back of it. It wasn’t a tall dresser. Long, long, it was three drawers wide and only three tall - so it was short, squat, wide. Really no risk of tipping. Until a determined child pulled out the bottom drawer and stands on the EDGE of it. It didn’t fall by any means, but it had rocked and bounced on the drawer and now the drawer won’t close. 

And dinner is on the floor.

And Ben just doesn’t have any more give in him.

“Clyde, buddy love, get your shoes. We’re going to the diner for dinner.”

“YAY!”

_____

The Anvil was a truck stop combo rest area with a restaurant that served really good food actually. Ben wasn’t sure when he first pulled up their first night out of the city. But it had been late in the day, their u-haul was packed to the brim, they’d been on the road for almost 5 hours at that point. It was time for dinner and almost anything would do.

To Ben’s surprise and relief, the outside did not reflect the inside. Cozy nooks of vinyl booths and linoleum were beyond clean, bright, and fresh. Cherry red with a subtle sparkle, Clyde loved the booths. The sturdy tables were more than stable enough for an active child who could not sit still. Standard diner fare went down well, put the boy in a sleepy state, and turned Ben into a fan.

Tonight the diner was slow. Ben and Clyde were a little over three weeks into their new life. This was their second trip to The Anvil. Granted as the only eatery within a forty mile radius, it was the sole option. But having good food and a bright atmosphere made it a satisfying situation. 

Clyde was singing his ABC’s in an off-kilter warbly tone that made Ben’s heart glow. Just leaving the house, mess still on the floor and everything, just walking away to breath and eat had lifted so much tension off his shoulders. 

The waitress strode by carrying a platter of dishes and gave Ben a nod to follow her. She balanced the platter with her shoulder and one hand so she could give a low five to a girl leaning out of a booth.

“Honey, you guys just grab a seat over there. I’ll be over in a minute. There’s paper and crayons behind the menus and ketchup.” Efficient and bossy. He kind of liked her. Ben hadn’t socialized much since moving out here. Honestly, there wasn’t much chance other than the gas station, The Anvil, and the few shops around town. He was single parenting it and had no babysitter options so heading to the bar two towns over wasn’t going to happen.

Tucking his boy into the inside of the bench, Ben slid himself to the aisle seat and dug out paper and crayons. A couple fast games of tic-tac-toe and they were ready to order. 

“Hey there honey, I’m Maz and I’ll be helping y’all today. What can I getcha?” No notepad, no pen, just her intent stare and easy grin. 

Looking over Ben signaled Clyde to speak up, “Can I have . . . ?”

“Can I have pizza? And fries?”

“Please?” The intent tone Ben used was gentle despite his stress from the earlier day.

“Please?” 

“Sure sweetie, do you want milk to drink?” Maz’s smile beamed at the boy, seemingly just as pleased with his order.

“Can I get chocolate milk?” Quick side eyes to his dad and Ben just gave in. What was chocolate milk after this day?

“Sure dude, chocolate milk.”

“Thank you!” Said more in general than to either Ben or Maz, Ben wasn’t going to fuss about it. At least the words have even come out.

“Could I please have a double cheeseburger, medium, with a double order of fries?”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

Maz stepped over to tend to another customer and Ben just rested his head on the table. Didn’t feel good on his back so he slumped until he sprawled over the entire aisle side of the table, hands in his lap and cool linoleum pressed to his cheek. Clyde was content to scribble, draw, write, whatever you call the splotches of color on his pages.

Closing his eyes Ben just enjoyed the moment of peace. In a truckstop diner. In the middle of nowhere. 

Until he heard that sweetly insistent accent drifting across the diner.

_____

Rey had just finished a pre-shift meal - not quite dinner but way too late for lunch. The heaping portion seemed intimidating when it arrived but she knew she wouldn’t eat during her scheduled hours, so better to fill up now. The overnights always messed with her usually hearty appetite.

Finn Trooper, who’d become a Sheriff's Deputy out of spite of his name, polished off the last of his fries and leaned in over the table, “Peanut, you had anymore of those calls from that Clyde kid? Poor mite sounds like he needs some friends to play with.”

Finn was a single dad, his son John had a tendency to act out due to the split home situation. Finn knew all about acting out and bored kids, that’s why he paired John up with the Tico girls. Rose and her sister Paige could handle ANY child - they had some magic way, both take-no-crap and still best love a child could ask for. But kids needed other kids to play with and Finn was ever on the hunt for a new playmate for John when the little-shit-starter ( his name for his son, not hers ) had his weekends and summers out in the boonies. 

“Well maybe next time he calls, which I’m sure will be sometime in the next day or so, I’ll see if I can get Mr. Solo’s permission to pass his information along. It would probably be healthy for both of you to have some guy time, just some dads and their dudes.” She tried to put a positive note in her voice but she worried. Worried for Finn as a single dad with little quality time and for Mr. Solo who it sounded like had done a complete life 180 and was floundering.

“No need to worry about that next time permission Ms. Rey, I’d be happy to introduce myself here-and-now.”

The deep tones sent a pleasant shiver from Rey’s neck to settle deep in her gut, radiating warmth that curled around her limbs. She looked up. And up and up. Being seated and trying to look a giant in the eyes was difficult. Never mind she had to NOT stare at that physique on the way. And boy was it a temptation.

“ . . . Mr. Solo?”

“Hi there sir! I’m Deputy Finn, this is Rey. Glad to finally meet you - scuttlebutt says we should get some fidgety boys together to burn off their itches.” Finn shook Mr. Solo’s hand before pulling his phone out.

“Rey and I here are ‘bout to head onto shift. Would you mind if I sent you my number? My Johnny, he’s 5 going on . . . well 5, he’s a handful for sure and we’ve been looking to make friends. He’ll be out to visit near 4 this Friday. Stayin’ for the whole weekend. Figured we could set them loose on the crick to get wild.” Finn’s chatty nature covered the blatant awkwardness of Rey staring hungrily at Mr. Solo.

Shaking his adorably shaggy hair around Mr. Solo carded it back with a broad palm while dragging his phone out with the other. A quick exchange of numbers and Deputy Finn breezed out of the diner with a knowing smirk thrown towards Rey. 

Rey, who couldn’t stop darting her glances to take in every bit of man hovering near her table. 

Suddenly a shriek from a booth halfway across the room diverted his intent look and his response of “On my way buddy! Don’t you eat all my fries you fry-eating-machine!” was met with a full belly giggle.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Rey. I hope this isn’t the last time I get to do so.” His palm was just there, in her face with just enough distance to not encroach, but close enough that it’d be TOO rude to not shake. Realizing quickly that she’d been in stunned silence the whole time, Rey tried to string some words together.

“Yeah. Yeah. Nice to face . . . uh. Hm hmm. Nice to meet you face to face. While I enjoy our talks, it's been a pleasure to personally . . . meet you.” Ugh, why couldn’t she converse normally? She spoke to people on the phone ALL THE TIME! Stop staring at his lips!

“Well, I gotta go wrangle the demonling. I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon.” Oh my god! He WINKED at her! The broad planes of his face, those full, kissable lips, just scrunched up in the cutest flirt.

“Can I have my hand back Ms. Rey? He’ll start coloring on the booth soon and I feel like Maz would make me scrub it off with a toothbrush.”

“Oh Goodness. Sorry Mr. Solo. Don’t know where I went to.” She didn’t want to let go of the warmth of his hand in hers. His fingers grazed the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist as he slowly drug his palm from hers. Turning back to his booth, Rey couldn’t help it if he caught her checking out his behind in those clinging jeans.

“You can call me Ben, Ms. Rey. It’s ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading - I hope it was enjoyable! Please leave a comment or kudos - it is life in the most basic of ways!
> 
> If you are so inclined you can -  
> Follow me on [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/readitude?s=09)
> 
> Or
> 
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